


T3LTSTD — Pre-Edit

by ClydeaL_Imastill



Series: Too Tired To Live, Too Stubborn To Die — Pre&Post-Edit [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 11:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeaL_Imastill/pseuds/ClydeaL_Imastill
Summary: "This is pathetic," the familiar voice scoffed from behind his back, "If anybody's going to kill you, it's going to be me, got it Malfoy?" It almost made him smile.Draco didn't bother to look. It didn't matter anyway. "And since when did I care what you wanted?" He laughed dryly, breathing in the sharp cold wind. Dear Merlin, it was bloody cold. But he didn't mind. It would be gone nearly the second he stepped off that ledge.Draco Malfoy is on the edge of suicide ideation into attempt, and Ron Weasley is there to witness it. In order to prevent this from happening again, Ron tries to form a friendship with Draco. A lot of Draco backstory, fluff, Weasley family, and uhh... Violence in all its forms.So quarantine got me fucked up and so I'm rewriting this but in a different work so yeah. I have the story planned out now so thats good. Still probably gonna have slow updates and 0 beta sorry pals.





	1. Moving Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving works, explanation. UwU

So basically, quarantine got me fucked up, and the past year I've been thinking about and planning this entire story and a possible spin-off if I ever finish this. I'm rewriting the first chapters because the first one is okay and the second one kinda sucks. Some of the tags on this work don't apply to the new one. I have the ending planned out and a lot of the middle and basically be prepared for a lot of bad writing and me trying to remember what it was like to be actively suicidal (also projecting my addicts personality onto Draco so I can live like an alcoholic vicariously through him)


	2. (lack of) Wings

Draco had always found his way up to the Astronomy tower on his walks. He didn't know why, but no matter how much he tried to avoid it, something pulled him to that same room. Every. Single. Day. He didn't even know why he went on those walks anymore, they didn't bring him any peace.

Today, however, was only the seventh time he stood on the ledge, compared to the seemingly hundreds of times he found himself re-enacting the events of that night. The wind ruffled his hair in a way that made him completely un-presentable — or at least that's what his beloved father would have said to him.

He stared at the ground below him. It really is a long way down, he thought, more of an observation than anxiety. He'd long gotten over that. Instead, he felt at peace. Maybe he could actually do it this time. He was a bit ashamed to say that he had chickened out the last few times, convincing himself to go just a little bit longer. Bravery wasn't exactly one of his strong suits. But today was different. Maybe it was the shittier than usual food at breakfast, maybe it was Harry's stupid laughter, or maybe it was just that he was finally tired enough to let himself fall.

By the time he had noticed someone else was there, he was no less than half a footstep away from death. He didn't mind.

"This is pathetic," the familiar voice scoffed from behind his back, "If anybody's going to kill you, it's going to be me, got it Malfoy?" It almost made him smile.

Draco didn't bother to look. It didn't matter anyway. "And since when did I care what you wanted?" He laughed dryly, breathing in the sharp cold wind. Dear Merlin, it was bloody cold. But he didn't mind. It would be gone nearly the second he stepped off that ledge.

He could feel the way the ginger stiffened behind him as he stepped just a bit closer to the open air. A gust of wind just a bit stronger could have knocked him down now. "Now you listen to me, you prat-"

"Listen to you? Come on, Weasley, I'd rather kill myself!" Draco yelled loudly. It was almost funny, and he'd laugh if he had it in him.

"Why are you doing it?"

Draco was so caught off-guard by the question, it almost made him fall. It wasn't mockery. He didn't sound like he was just trying to get him off the ledge. It was simple, genuine curiosity, and Draco had to admit he himself was intrigued by his enemy's interest. He gripped the stone wall to balance himself before turning around. "Why do you care?" he retorted, avoiding the question.

Ron glared back up at him. "I asked my question first." 

Draco just shrugged in response, before realizing that he could tell him. He was about to off himself anyways. "It's all just — too much. Life, I mean. I tried to reason with myself, you know, find a reason why killing myself wasn't a good idea-"

"Killing yourself is never a good idea, idiot."

Draco shot the red-head a glare before continuing, "I'm a terrible fucking person, Weasley. The world would seriously be better without me, believe me. You told me yourself. You know I've been thinking about suicide since I was twelve? Six whole fucking years and here I am — still a failure, as always," he sneered, more at himself than at Ron. He figured he'd done enough explaining. "You still haven't told me why you care. Other than you want to be the one to kill me, of course."

Ron rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Anybody who doesn't show sympathy to someone who's suicidal is an asshole. And Draco, you're not... Evil. I mean, he threatened to kill your family. You're a fucking asshole, sure, but you're not evil." His throat sounded like it had cotton in it.

"Wow, that made me feel so much better."

"You know what I mean! You don't deserve to die. Really, nobody — nobody deserves to die, unless they're like, Voldemort, or Hitler, or something. You're as much of a victim as the rest of us, if not more! If you really look at it, you got indoctrinated into a cult!"

It took Draco a second to realize the Weasley boy was on the verge of crying. He felt sick, suddenly not feeling so trigger-happy, for lack of a better word.

"Don't you wanna — I dunno, meet new people? Get a shitty fucking tattoo? Tell your dad, who you never really liked but you could never hate, to fuck off?" Ron lets out a choked sort of laugh at the last part. His face is patchy and red, his freckles standing out more with the inconsistency.

Draco swallows, looking down at the cold stone under his feet. "I don't... I-" he took a deep breath, finally meeting his counterpart's eyes for once. "I just don't really see the point when nobody but-but maybe you will give me a chance. There's no point in getting better when nobody cares."

Ron yelled, throwing his hands up, "I thought we already established that I fucking care!!"

They both huffed, turning away from each other. They stood like that for a while, Draco leaning against the stone and Ron picking at his nails in frustration.

"If I get down will you stop bothering me for once?"

"Yes. God, yes."

"Don't sound so pleased with yourself, Weasley." He sneered, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity he had left.

"R-right," Ron laughed in relief, "I guess those psychology rants Hermione made me listen to were a bit helpful,"

They parted ways, leaving each other alone with their thoughts.

Draco was left with the impending doom that always seemed to settle in whenever he told someone about an issue of his. They're going to tell everyone, they're going to leave you, they don't actually care, you're an attention whore, a faker, a—

Ron leaned against the wall, sinking to the floor. He rubbed his face, trying to register the events that had transpired. Draco Malfoy had just attempted suicide. And he had actually managed to talk him down. He didn't think he would, but he started sobbing. Out of relief, shock, sadness, anger, he wasn't sure. But he started and he couldn't stop.


	3. only LOSERS eat lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhh?? I have absolutely no clue when Quidditch matches, winter break, etc. are because I haven't read the books in three years so if somebody could tell me all of that, that'd be great...

Harry didn't know what to say. I mean, what was he supposed to say, anyways? He didn't know why Ron was so upset, and he wasn't going to tell him. It drove him mad. He'd been like this for a week. Hermione told him to just leave it alone, not to smother or overwhelm Ron. But when The Ron Weasley "just didn't really feel like eating," Hermione nearly lost her head herself.

"What is it with you," she leaned towards him and crossed her arms, " _spill_."

Ron looked up at them, dumbly sputtering out an excuse that would barely work on a child. "I'm — It's — What do you mean? Nothing's wrong, what would — why on earth — you know, maybe you're projecting your problems onto me, hmm? Yeah, yeah — you —"

They both stared at him in disbelief, Harry giving Hermione a ' _told you so_ ' look. Ron stopped after a few seconds, realizing that he was getting nowhere with them. He sighed and continued to pick at his food.

There was no way he could tell them. Or anyone, for that matter. He knew it could be seen as a bit odd for him to protect Malfoy's dignity considering all he's done, but this was too much for anyone to share about someone, even if they were a big prick. Without permission, of course. He had wanted to talk to Malfoy, but it had seemed like he was avoiding him. He suddenly found himself wishing Professor Snape was still alive, somehow knowing he would know what to have done in this situation. Bile collected in his throat as he thought more about it.

Hermione looked at him in pity, reaching over to hold his hand. Ron accepted the gesture of affection, squeezing her's back before taking it away and placing it in his lap.

"I'm not sure if I'm — if I really want to talk about it? I mean, I do I just... It involves someone else, so unless I ask them about it, it wouldn't really be right to talk about it." He sighed, leaning back to look at the ceiling. He want even sure if the part about him wanting to talk about it was true.

Harry looked at him quizzically, wondering who he could be talking about. He'd tried to think back to who'd been awkward around Ron lately, but nobody came to mind.

"You can talk about the events without revealing the person involved in them," Hermione suggested, passing a turkey leg Ron. He took it reluctantly, grimacing at it.

He only took a bite to avoid speaking. He thought about it, about talking about it. About Draco. About the way Draco laughed, so utterly ruined that the prospect of his own death seemed amusing to him. His lips were turning blue, cracked and dry yet he hadn't seemed to have noticed it. His hair whipped around in every direction, making the Malfoy look more than a Lovegood if he'd ever seen one. He looked beyond sleep-deprived, stumbling as if he was drunk — _one wrong step and he would die_. He wasn't wearing any of his school robes, and you could see a peak of his dark mark. Or, more accurately, the scabs and brightly coloured scars that scattered themselves across it. Ron shuddered thinking about it, how Draco probably tried to destroy it, or ruin it in some way.

Harry tried to not worry to much about Ron. He could take care of himself, and everyone knew that. Ron was perhaps on of the most well-adjusted eighth years. Most everyone else was engaging in self-destructive "it's the end of the world, might as well party," behavior or the exact opposite, too scared they were going to die to do anything fun. But Ron could carry himself, and if he had an issue he was typically pretty open about it to his close friends. So if he didn't want to tell them something, Harry was going to _(re: should,)_ leave it alone.

Hermione was goddamn persistent. She was going to find out what happened, and who the other person was if it caused the death of her. What could she say, she was a bit nosy. Okay, maybe a lot nosy. She'd justify it by saying she just cared so much about why Ron was feeling do badly, and it wouldn't be a lie. And come on, wouldn't you want to know who this mystery person is? To... comfort them...... Yeah, she'd probably go to Hell (did Hell exist?) for this. But she couldn't refuse an opportunity to pick somebody's brain about something, and she needed to practice her profiling skills.

* * *

Pansy ran her hands through Draco's hair, silently noting how thick it felt. "You need to take a shower, your hair's gross."

Draco stuck his tongue out at her, keeping his eyes closed to block out the sun. His head laid in her lap, her sitting cross-legged on the grass, and Blaise sitting in the tree above them. They should be at the Great Hall for lunch, but they'd rather sit outside than be harassed. Even if it was bloody cold and they were all freezing their asses off.

They looked out of a drawing, the perfect band of _we're-younger-than-we-look_ teenagers for some teenage muggle calendar. Only if you knew them would they look anything out of the ordinary. Nobody but them noticed Blaise chewing his gum a bit too harshly, and Draco's general lack of fucks as anything out of the ordinary. On the other side of things, most people would be shocked by Pansy's hair pulling habit. None of them cared, 

Pansy looked up at Blaise. "You're _tense_." She was always blunt with people, it wasn't just an act she put up to be an asshole. Still, he flinched.

"Mum's in court today," he stopped at some parts in his sentence to chew on his lips, before remembering he had gum. His nose was flared, and he didn't look back at them.

Pansy just nodded in response. Both her and Draco's parents were death-eaters, and with Ms. Zabini's association with them she had been requested at the trial for all four of them, even if she claimed to not know anything useful. She looked down at Draco, her hair cascading around his face a bit like one of those beds she'd always wanted when she was small. "Where were you? Last week. You took longer than usual."

Draco shrugged his shoulders. They were well-acquainted with his midnight-walks, and while they both had a general idea of what he was doing on them, he never exposed that part of himself openly. "Astronomy Tower. I talked to Weasley. He was... Nice? I'd say he was tolerable enough."

Pansy didn't question him any further. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. And that was that. There was no need to worry about him, she and Blaise had their own problems to deal with. Maybe if he wasn't such a bloody _traumatized fuck baby_ he could— she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. She always got so worked up over the smallest things.

Blaise barely cared about Draco's issues at the moment. He wanted to, he really did, but he just couldn't. Not with his Mother so out in the open like that. He didn't much care about Draco's parents though, especially his father. He always seemed to grip a bit too hard on his cane, and Draco always flinched a bit too much when somebody touched him.

"You know you _really should_ take a shower, Draco."

Draco burst out in giggles and Blaise stifled a laugh. Pansy stared at them in confusion, her hand tracing her hairline before tugging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried giving the rest of them character? Pansy and Blaise are getting more characterizations right now because I mean we already frickin know whomst've the heck Harry and Hermione are. I'm not sure if you noticed but I'm very proud about their little tics... I mean I know trichotillomania isn't really a tic but you know what I mean
> 
> Writing kinds really fast cause I want the story to progress so I can talk about George!! Other than not knowing when the fuck anything happens I also have absolutely no clue what order the Weasley children are in and how many years are between them! So Christmas'll be fun!


	4. to the 31 people apparently subscribed to this work wtf Ive never checked my stats before

I have published the rewrite of the first chapter of T3LTSTD! Yay! Please feel free to read that work and tell me whether you prefer that version or the first chapter from here :) Also I've never checked my stats before and I know 31 subscribers (??) isn't a lot but I didn't even know that the stats thing existed. I've ordered the works so this is the second work in the series, so you should be able to find the new work fairly quickly (if you would like to)


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